Chapter II: Othello
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That night, at eleven forty seven, Poéte pulled his patchy brown jacket off of his hook in the doorway.
A steady drizzle had started to fall in a quiet, steady rhythm on the roof of the La Malédiction household.
Just as his fingers closed around the doorknob the high pitched creak of floor boards broke the silence,
His face went pale as his brain scrambled to find an excuse.
“Where’re you goin’?”
A small voice mumbled.
“Nowhere , Othello.”
Poéte breathed as his shoulders untensed.
Othello was Poéte’s younger brother.
Othello was rather small for the age of eight with a round face, dark eyes, and hair slightly lighter in color and more in control than his brother’s.
“But… you have your jacket on…”
Othello mumbled, tapping the tip of his nose with his forefinger.
“...So you're definitely goin’ somewhere…”
He perked up at the thought.
“Can I come too?”
“Absolutely not!”
Poéte whisper-shouted.
“I mean… no you can’t. Not this time.”
“Why not?”
Othello whined.
Poéte sighed and gestured out the window.
“Because it’s dangerous!”
“Then why’re you goin’?”
“Because… b-because… because….”
“Because you’re meetin’ your friends somewhere questionable?”
“....possibly.”
Othello grinned.
“Where?”
Poéte huffed.
“None of your business, nosy!”
He paused.
“Just… don’t tell Maman or Papa.”
Othello tilted his head, smiling devilishly.
“Do I get sweets?”
“Fine, fine… if you don’t tell anybody I’ll give you my sweets. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Poéte turned the doorknob and the door opened with a click.
“G’night.”
He said as he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.36Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡt9LMmV0FFj
and then Add to home screen.